


i can live neither with you nor without you

by ObscureReference



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, 弱虫ペダル | Yowamushi Pedal
Genre: Blood, Ghouls, Kissing, M/M, Non-descriptive depictions of cannibalism, Non-descriptive depictions of violence, Suicide mention, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fukutomi pulled away again, leaving his hands in place. Somehow Arakita managed to hold back his whine. He dragged his tongue against his bottom lip. Their eyes locked.</p><p>"Arakita," Fukutomi said. "Are you a ghoul?"</p><p>Arakita froze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can live neither with you nor without you

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote the vast majority of this about a year ago and never finished the ending and a small part leading up to it. Since Halloween is coming up, I thought 'what the hell' and finished it. Since this is some old writing, there are parts that are a little more unpolished (in my opinion) than my writing now, but I didn't mind it enough not to post. It's been a while since I've written anything for the yowapeda fandom, so I hope everyone is an in-character as I remember and nothing is too weird. I really like ghoul-aus, so I'm actually kind of pleased I'm finally posting it. What happened to the days I could write 10,000 words like this is no time? Oh well. I hope you enjoy it! I read over it a few times, but since it's so long, I may have missed a typo or two. Feel free to tell me if so. Tell me if I missed any warnings as well!

 

\--

_After_

\--

Fukutomi's mouth was against his. Their teeth clicked and the angle was odd, but Arakita's lips tingled from where Fukutomi's lips rolled across his own. It was warm and amazing and Arakita's brain felt like it was melting.

Actually, all of him felt like melting. The warm feeling had begun in his face the moment Fukutomi has pressed their mouths together. Then it traveled down to his chest, invaded his veins, and suddenly every inch of Arakita felt on the verge of dissolving between heartbeats.

Fukutomi pressed closer. Their chests brushed. Arakita's lungs constricted.

Then Fukutomi pulled back. Arakita would deny for the rest of his life the disappointed sound he made when that happened. Fukutomi's gaze was enough to keep him from voicing his complaints, however.

"Is this alright?" Fukutomi asked. As though Arakita hadn't wanted this for years, had only dared to believe he could never have this except in his craziest dreams. As though he wasn't half-hard just from a sloppy, three-second kiss.

Arakita didn't answer vocally. He surged back in and slammed their mouths together again. This time it was Fukutomi who made the noise, more surprise than anything else, but he tilted his head and there, that was a good angle. Fukutomi shifted, ever so slightly, ever so noticeably. The outline of his dick barely brushed by Arakita's thigh, but he _burned._

Maybe in a minute it would end. Maybe in a minute Fukutomi would pull back and say, 'sorry, my mistake.' Maybe it was all a big joke and Arakita would have to move to America to hide his shame. But he had wanted this for years and Arakita took what he could get, even if this was as far as it would ever get. Whatever 'this' was.

Calloused hands cupped his cheeks. Fukutomi's hands were bigger than Arakita's own. Sturdier. They radiated heat. It felt like Arakita would forever have Fukutomi's fingerprints scorched in to his cheeks. Arakita would die on the spot if anything like a moan found its way out of his mouth, but there was certainly something already building in his throat. Damn Fukutomi for making him so weak.

Fukutomi pulled away again, leaving his hands in place. Somehow Arakita managed to hold back his whine. He dragged his tongue against his bottom lip. Their eyes locked.

"Arakita," Fukutomi said. "Are you a ghoul?"

Arakita froze.

\--

_Before_

\--

Eating people food was tedious. It took too long, tasted disgusting, and Arakita always had to force himself to get sick in one of the boy's bathrooms afterwards. The whole process was a bunch of garbage. He put up with it, usually, but some days just weren't worth the hassle.

"Arakita."

Arakita barely opened one eye to look at Fukutomi. He had been having a great nap, thank you, and he didn't need his captain taking that away from him.

"What?" He muttered.

Fukutomi stood over his desk. Arakita's sleepy dismissal had not deterred him. "Where is your lunch?"

Arakita closed his eyes. "Not hungry."

Something rustled. Maybe Fukutomi getting out his own lunch. Good. Then he'd leave Arakita alone.

Suddenly plastic was shoved in his face. It was close enough to bump against the tip of his nose and Arakita sat up out of surprise. The lights were considerably brighter than he recalled them being. He rubbed at his tired eyes.

"Fuku-chan!" Arakita whined. He hated it when Fukutomi did things like this. "Get your bread out of my face."

The bread stayed where it was. Fukutomi continued to hold it out.

"If you do not eat, then you will not have energy later," he said. Arakita scowled.

"I have plenty of energy. What I need is a nap!"

Several people turned their heads at Arakita's loud voice. Both boys ignored them.

Fukutomi also ignored Arakita, it seemed. He held the bread out to Arakita despite how his arm must have been growing tired. His face did not change. Arakita had the feeling Fukutomi would do that all day if Arakita let him.

Fine. It was fine.

"If I eat the bread, will you stop hovering over me?"

Fukutomi said nothing. Arakita sighed. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

Arakita took the plastic and unwrapped it. He didn't bother reading whatever label was on the back since he wouldn't taste anything anyway. He glanced at Fukutomi. The blond still hadn't moved. His staring made Arakita feel oddly tense.

"Quit staring, weirdo," Arakita grumbled. Then he took a bite.

It was revolting. As usual. The bread was garbage and whatever filling he had been given might as well have been dirt. If Arakita hadn't had years of experience, he would have spat the food on to the floor. Though he had done that in the past as well. Just not when there were people around.

As it was, he pretended to chew under Fukutomi's gaze. He managed to swallow the gravel without throwing up, a feat in itself. He swallowed again and again. Within a minute all the bread was gone and Arakita was able to match Fukutomi's gaze again.

"There!" He spat. "Are you happy now?"

It was rhetorical, obviously. Fukutomi nodded anyway. Of course.

"You must keep up your energy," he said. Then he went back to his own seat, presumably to finish his own lunch.

Whatever. Fukutomi could take as much time as he wanted now that he had forced food down his throat. Arakita had to find a bathroom.

Fukutomi didn't acknowledge Arakita when he left the classroom. That was a little annoying, considering the effort he had gone through to force Arakita to eat in the first place, but whatever. Arakita didn't need him following anyway. He had other things to take care of.

The boy's bathroom overflowed with students. Most of them were first-years who for some reason still hadn't figured out their bathroom schedule. There was no way Arakita was going to wait for all of them to clear out. It wasn't like he hadn't done it outside before.

Finding a secluded spot was easy. Throwing up was even easier. His body craved to get rid of the lead in his system and it was all too happy to oblige when he stuck his fingers in his throat. The whole process only took about five minutes. One trip to the water fountain later, even the acidic taste in his mouth was gone. Arakita made it back to class with time to spare.

\--

"Arakita-san! Arakita-san!"

Arakita scowled. He was at bike practice. He should have been _practicing_. Talking to Izumida was not on his to-do list that evening. Not that he had anything particularly against the guy, but throwing up always put Arakita in a snappy mood.

"Arakita-san!"

_"What."_

Several heads turned. They were all newbies or people who enjoyed banter. Anyone who had been in the club for over a year had learned to ignore Arakita's snapping long ago.

Arakita stared at Izumida. They were both already wearing their jerseys, Izumida's unzipped to show off Andy and Frank. His nipples were a little hard in the cool air. Arakita tried not to notice. He wanted to be out the door ten minutes ago.

Izumida looked at him very seriously.

"How do you feel, Arakita-san?"

"How do I feel?" Arakita repeated. Izumida was a weird guy. Whatever.  "I feel great. Peachy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure. That it?"

Izumida nodded, but any schmuck on the street could see he looked doubtful. "Yes, I suppose."

"Good."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay since you threw up earlier—"

Arakita froze.

"—but since you say you're fine, I will take your word for it!"

Very carefully, Arakita turned back around. He forced himself to take a breath. This was fine. He had done this before. Throwing up was a regular, human thing to do. It wasn't suspicious. Not for a ghoul, anyway.

"I didn't throw up," Arakita said firmly. Izumida's brow furrowed.

"I believe I saw you,." he said. Arakita was very aware of the faces turned towards the two of them, of all the people listening in. He shook his head.

"I didn't throw up," Arakita repeated. "I didn't."

Now Izumida was really making a face. "Arakita-san, I saw you behind the school during lunch—"

"I said I didn't!"

It came out a lot louder than Arakita had intended. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore Izumida's startled face.

"I said I didn't," Arakita repeated. "And if I said so, I mean it. I don't know what you saw. Somebody else, probably. Not me."

There. That should have settled it. Arakita turned halfway around again.

"But Arakita-san—"

Izumida didn't know when to quit. Arakita spun, mouth open to rebuke the claim again when a hand landed sharply on his shoulder.

Arakita glanced over. Shinkai. Of course.

"Are you two doing alright?" Shinkai asked.

Izumida's entire body visibly relaxed to be in the presence of his idol. It made Arakita want to gag.

"Yeah, we're doing great," Arakita said before Izumida had the chance to chime in. Shinkai raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?

"Yep."

Shinkai turned his gaze to Izumida. "Are you alright as well?"

Izumida was visibly conflicted. His mouth opened, closed, opened several times while he glanced between Arakita and the floor before making a decision.

"Arakita-san is ill!" He declared.

Arakita glowered. _Damn you,_ he thought.

"I'm not sick and you don't know jack," he said before shaking off Shinkai's hand. He wasn't going to stand around and argue all day. It wouldn't get him anywhere. He left the two behind to get a head start on cycling.

He ignored Shinkai's looks while he practiced, opting instead to focus on the road and Fukutomi's back while they rode. He continued to ignore Shinkai when the redhead pulled Fukutomi aside for a talk. He knew what they were speaking about.

Fukutomi didn't confront him until after the bikes were put away, which was exactly what Arakita expected. At least he wasn't surprised. He had thought about the conversation all throughout practice.

"Is it true that you were ill earlier?"

Those were the first words that left Fukutomi's mouth after he called Arakita over. Arakita already knew his answer.

"Nope."

Maybe others would have gone the easier, less suspicious route— fess up to being sick and collaborate Izumida's story. But telling the truth, even the partial truth, meant implying Arakita's health was anything less than stellar, and if he did that, there was a good chance he'd be kept from practicing for a while and that wasn't something Arakita could afford.

Fukutomi, sadly, was not a man easily swayed. He didn't change facial expression. He simply _looked_ at Arakita.

"Are you saying Izumida is lying about what he saw?"

"I don't know what Izumida saw," Arakita said. Not technically a lie. "He probably did see someone in the bushes. I don't know and I don't care. It wasn't me."

Don't rush it, Arakita reminded himself. If he rushed it, he would look suspicious. He had to make it look like he didn't have anything to hide. Like he didn't care if they dwelled on the subject.

"You did not want to eat earlier."

"I wasn't hungry."

"Because you were sick."

"Because I _wasn't hungry._ "

"You were a little slower than usual today."

"We can't all be perfect bikers every day like some people."

A beat. They stared at each other. Arakita had three years worth of experience staring at Fukutomi's statue face.

Fukutomi spoke first.

"If you are under the weather, it is my duty as captain to keep you from causing further harm to yourself. Do not ruin your body by practicing when you should be resting."

"I'll keep that in mind for when I'm actually sick."

Another pause.

They were at a stalemate. Arakita couldn't prove that Izumida hadn't seen anything that afternoon, but Fukutomi also had no way of proving that it had actually been Arakita. Unless Arakita confessed, there was nothing to be done.

Then Fukutomi went and did the unexpected.

"It is my duty as captain to look after the health of my teammates," Fukutomi said. He placed one large hand on Arakita's shoulder, startling him. "And it is my duty as your friend to make sure you are not hurting yourself."

 Arakita didn't like Fukutomi so close, didn't like being touched by him. It made his face all warm. It also made him the first to avert his eyes.

"Don't say crap like that with a straight face." Arakita grumbled. "I feel fine."

He didn't shrug off Fukutomi's hand and Fukutomi didn't move. It was nice. Comforting. Something a weaker person would have blushed and stuttered over, being so close to someone they liked. Touching them.

Arakita liked to think he had a little pride. He stepped away.

"It's time for dinner, Fuku-chan." He said as he made his way towards the school. "Let's go clean up."

Fukutomi said nothing. He simply followed after. Arakita made a mental note not to use the bushes behind the school again.

\--

Arakita didn't eat in the cafeteria. He never ate in the cafeteria. It was too crowded, too loud, and people always noticed when he didn't eat. Sitting in the cafeteria was a pain.

Outside was much better. No one's shoulder rubbed against his. Nobody tried to get in his space or goad conversation. It was just him, the moon, and the stars. He didn't have to share or answer anything.

Granted, it was only yet sunset. But the stars would be out soon enough. Already the faint outline of the moon was visible in the orange-tinted sky. It would come when it would come. Arakita just had to wait.

It wasn't like he was in a rush. He was on break until night practice anyway.

An odd scent drifted to his nose, out of place for the secluded area he was in. Human. Behind him.

Arakita turned just fast enough to spy the tail end of Toudou's back as he ran off. The signature headband and slicked back hair gave it away, though it wasn't like Toudou's perfume helped disguise him at all either. Whatever he was doing, Arakita didn't care. Probably wanted to see if Arakita was really sick and then laugh if he caught him throwing up. Whatever.

"Joke's on you," Arakita muttered to himself. The breeze carried his voice away.

He laid back on the concrete.

He'd go hunting tonight. It had been long enough and the human food he had eaten anyway had made him weaker. Weak enough that Fukutomi had noticed at practice. Arakita would go do his night practice, of course. But he had no real schedule. He'd take a detour.

But first, the stars.

\--

Campus security didn't like students leaving at night. They always gave Arakita strange looks when he left in the evenings and they were never there when he got back. On the rare occasion they were, they always interrogated him on where he was going, where he had already gone. There was no rule saying he couldn't leave. It was Arakita's business where he went and no one else's.

The guards gave him the same look they gave every time Arakita left at night. He glared right back.

Arakita always started in the hills and slowly made his way back to town. It wasn't unusual for him to head right there. It was routine practice. Anyone who saw him would say so.

Less commonly known was the shack in the woods. Secluded. Abandoned. It only took about thirty minutes to get there after Arakita left the school. It was a little off the dirt path. Not too far off, but one had to be searching through the trees to find it. It was cozy, not too run down. The door hung a little off its hinge but overall, for an abandoned shack, it was in good condition. It was a fixer-upper.

It was also where people killed themselves.

Arakita didn't know why they chose to do it there. They could have chosen anywhere— the mountain, their home, a field— so why so many chose some empty shack in the woods was beyond him. Arakita might have dwelt more upon it if it wasn't his main source of food.

Arakita tried not to feel bad for these people because once you start feeling bad, then you didn't eat and when ghouls didn't eat, everything went wrong. So Arakita tried not to.

He double checked to make sure there were no bystanders before stashing his bike just behind the tree line. It wouldn't do to have some curious driver pull over out of the goodness of their heart or whatever. The path to the shack was overgrown from disuse, leaving Arakita stumbling through the weeds and over tree roots.

"Stupid— Shit." Arakita swore quietly in the darkness, untangling his shoe from a few particularly nasty weeds. He wished all the plants in the area would spontaneously combust.  "Damn."

The short trip ended with Arakita only falling on his face once and since no one was around to see it, Arakita called it a good day.

He couldn't smell any humans when he got closer to the shack. There was no meat smell, no lingering scent of decay. Just dust and disuse. When Arakita peaked inside, it was just as he had suspected. No bodies. Only a dirt flood and broken chair greeted him.

Nobody had freely given up their flesh that night and there was no guarantee anyone would in the next couple nights either. Arakita would have to go searching on his own.

Something low and solid settled in the pit of his stomach. Arakita didn't grumble as he picked his way back through the flora. A coldness began to creep through his skin. He welcomed the dryness of the night air, the friction his biking generated. He needed the heat.

It was a long ride back to the school.

\--

By the time Arakita collapsed on his bed, he really was exhausted. The ride through the hills hadn't been easy. Considering the roughness of the path was one of the reasons Arakita had chosen that route, anyone else probably would have called it a success. But it was more than tiredness sinking in his bones. It was a sickness. It was lack of food. It was poison in his skin.

Okay, so maybe it really had been a while since he had eaten. It wasn't like that bread had helped any. Even though Arakita had thrown up, each bite had been iron down his throat and there was no way he had gotten it all out when he'd puked. This always happened. Even if ghouls got rid of their human food, the aftereffects still progressed.

But Arakita had caught it early, he thought. He usually didn't feel this awful after partaking in human food, even with the extra practice.

Maybe it had been longer than he'd thought since eating a human.

Whatever. Arakita could handle it. He would sleep it off and deal with everything tomorrow. That was enough time to get at least a little strength back.

With a little more effort than usual, Arakita pushed himself off his bed. He needed a shower.

\--

"Get out of my face."

"Eat this."

"No."

Arakita didn't bother to look up from his manga. Though he sat behind the school in a small, out of the way area, he knew that eventually the mountains or fangirls or a phone call would drive Toudou away.

"Eat it."

"I said no."

"It's good for you."

"I don't want it!"

Toudou reluctantly lowered the box, pouting. Then, with renewed vigor, he shoved the box in to Arakita's face close enough that Arakita had no choice but to look up.

"Why are you trying to give me that?" Arakita complained. The box— filled to the brim with vegetables and some kind of weird sauce— sat almost beneath his nose. The stench of it almost made Arakita want to gag. Human food was disgusting. Toudou's pout grew.

" _This_ ," he said, shaking the bento. "Is a meal full of nutrients and good things for your stick of a body. It's healthy, unlike all the fried chicken you somehow seem to live off of."

"That didn't answer my question."

Toudou flipped his hair. Maybe to some girls it would have been attractive, but to Arakita it only served to look pretentious.

"The Inter-High is coming up," Toudou said. "We can't afford to have you drop dead until we win. Plus, you'll probably end up giving your sickness to someone else if you're not careful. Which you aren't."

"Sickness isn't something you can pick and choose to give to someone!" Arakita snapped. Toudou raised an immaculate eyebrow.

"But you are sick."

"I'm not that either!"

Arakita was incredibly tired of people repeating the same thing he continuously denied.

"Izumida saw you throw up," Toudou said, pulling a pair of chopsticks from thin air.

Arakita rolled his eyes. "I don't know what Izumida saw because I wasn't—"

Toudou had taken advantage of the opportunity and popped food in to Arakita's mouth mid-speech. Arakita gagged, slapping his hand over his mouth. He couldn't spit it out. He tried his best to disguise it as a cough. Somehow he managed to swallow under Toudou's triumphant gaze.

The moment he could speak, Arakita snapped. "Don't just go throwing shit in to other people's mouths!"

Toudou merely grinned back. "How did it taste?"

"Who cares? That's a choking hazard!"

"Do you think Maki-chan will like it?"

Arakita paused.

"You only came to bother me to use me as a taste-tester for your boyfriend?"

Toudou sputtered at the word "boyfriend." Arakita would have felt more victorious if the rotten taste of human food hadn't still lingered on his tongue.

"Maki-chan is _not_ my boyfriend!" Toudou screeched. He paused, and then in a milder tone added, "Yet. Not yet. But both of you need to eat better, so this is a win-win situation."

Arakita was too tired to put up with Toudou's god-awful attempts to "help" him. He didn't have nearly enough energy.

Snatching his manga from where he had dropped it, Arakita laid back on the concrete. It was about time for Toudou to buzz off.

"The least you could do is thank me," Toudou grumbled, arms crossed. The bento had been placed by Arakita's feet. "It's a new recipe I thought up myself. Even I haven't tried it yet. You never even told me how it tastes."

Like shit. "Fine."

Toudou practically _glowed_ as he checked his phone. Arakita squinted back.

"Lunch is almost over. Eat up and get better so you don't infect the rest of the team with your gross disease."

Arakita scowled as Toudou turned tail.

"If I ever really did get sick," Arakita called after him. "I'd throw up on your ugly headbands first!"

Toudou's indignant cry rang across the courtyard. Arakita grimaced back.

\--

Arakita found a guy outside a bar.

It was dark. The guy was drunk and aggressive and boasted loudly about how his "dumb bitch of a wife deserved what she got." An easy target. People from the seedy side of town always were.

Eventually the drunk left the bar entrance, one hand on his booze and the other struggling for his fly in vain. He stumbled toward Arakita's alley. This was to no surprise. Drunks were predictable. Arakita hung back in the alley, bike and messenger bag stashed behind a dumpster. Arakita himself stood just out of sight, back pressed against the dirty wall. He waited.

It was easy to drag the drunk in to the alley. It was easy to activate his kagune, easy to pierce his heart. It was easy for him to die.

It wasn't clean. It was anything but clean. But it was delicious and Arakita had packed an extra shirt anyway. It was over and done with within minutes.

When Arakita had finished, it was hard to tell the remains at any point resembled a human. He ran a tongue over his teeth to clean them. A few drops of blood rolled down the corner of his mouth and dripped on to his collar. It didn't matter. His shirt was pretty much ruined anyway. Even when he tried to be more civil about it, he made a mess. Figured.

He swiped his tongue over his lips again and reached for his bag. Arakita had brought a spare change of clothes for a reason. He pulled off his shirt, wiping his face clean with the dirty cloth before stuffing it in his bag and exchanging it with the clean shirt. He shrugged on the simple t-shirt, and swung the bag over his shoulder. His pants had come out mostly clean. It was too dark to make out the finer details of any stains in the darkness anyway.

Carefully, Arakita stepped around the mess and out of the alley. He didn't bother looking around before grabbing his bike and cycling away.

There. Like it never happened.

Arakita felt pleasantly full. The human food he had been forced to ingest recently had really taken a toll on him. More so than he had realized, actually, if the new energy pumping through his veins had anything to say.

It was late. Almost midnight, but that only made the chances of the school's security being gone all the more likely. They never did their job right.

"Yasutomo?"

Arakita slowed. Cursed.

He had been too caught up in his own thoughts. Arakita's parents had always insisted upon the importance of constant vigilance.  He hadn't been paying attention and now he was going to be punished for it.

There was no use fighting it.

Fukutomi and Shinkai stood under the dim light of the convenience store, watching Arakita as he pulled up a few feet away, not quite entering the convenience store's dim light. He couldn't bring himself to move closer.

 _I'm clean_ , Arakita thought. _I cleaned up. I'm clean._

"Yasutomo," Shinkai said again when it was clear Arakita would not get off his bike. "I thought you had plans tonight?"

Arakita ran his tongue over his teeth once more and thought about the half-truth he had fed Shinkai that morning. His skin felt hot with Fukutomi watching. He felt see-through.

 "I did. Why the hell are you out so late?"

Fukutomi raised one of his thick eyebrows.

"We could ask you the same." Shinkai said, expression matching Fukutomi's own.

Good point. Arakita tried again.

"I thought you guys were going out as a group."

Even as he said it, Arakita heard the thumps from inside the convenience store, Toudou's shrill voice, the panicked cry of "Abs!" Izumida had knocked over something large.

Shinkai sighed and purposely did not look through the window. "We did."

Arakita fiddled with his handlebars. Fukutomi continued to say nothing.

"I'm heading back," Arakita said. "Don't get arrested for destroying a convenience store tonight."

Before Arakita could place his feet back on the pedals, Shinkai held up a hand.

"Wait, Yasutomo. Why were you out here alone so late?"

"Biking."

"Just biking?"

"Did I stutter?"

Shinkai ignored Fukutomi's furrowed brows and steeped closer to the edge of convenience store light, too close to Arakita for comfort.

"Really?" Shinkai said. "Then why do you have that bag?"

Shit. Arakita had forgotten.

Before Arakita could open his mouth, Shinkai continued, "I know why."

For the first time, Fukutomi spoke up.

"And why is that?"

He still sat under the dim light, closer to the store's sliding doors than anyone else. More panicked apologies and thumps echoed throughout the store. Fukutomi winced.

Shinkai ignored the noise and stared at Arakita. It was different than Fukutomi's stare. Fukutomi made Arakita feel hot and exposed. Shinkai made Arakita feel like a flayed man.

Shinkai turned toward the noise, toward Fukutomi.

"Arakita was not out just to bike, Juichi."

Shinkai's tone was devoid of its usual playfulness. Arakita felt the air rush out of him.

 _This is it,_ he thought. In the corner of his eye, he saw Fukutomi tense.

"He was on a romantic rendezvous."

"What!"

"What."

Fukutomi's deadpan voice echoed Arakita's own. They looked at each other. Shinkai smiled.

"That's exactly what happened," Shinkai said, almost to himself. "You were meeting your lover under the moonlight. That's very romantic, Yasutomo. You probably brought them a gift in that bag as well."

Suddenly, it felt as though a vein in Arakita's forehead was about to burst.

"I ride _every night_ by myself, idiot! It's my extra training so I can go to the Inter-High! I'm not meeting some girl!"

Shinkai deflated, a much faster reaction than the tenseness that bled out of Fukutomi's shoulders.

"Is that so?" Shinkai asked sadly. Arakita scowled.

"You already know so! You're just trying to get me worked up!"

"Is it working?"

"You're an idiot. I'm leaving. Bye, Fuku-chan.

Fukutomi nodded. "Be safe getting back, Arakita."

"Yeah, yeah."

Toudou's voice picked up through the glass as Arakita kicked off. He didn't plan on sticking around for whatever mess Shinkai tried to drag him in to.

"See you, Yasutomo!"

Arakita lifted his hand form the handle bar in a brief wave. He didn't look back, but he could feel their eyes on him as he rode away.

In his dorm room, Arakita scrubbed his teeth until he was certain every speck of blood was washed away and the sweet taste of meat was replaced by a minty burn. He didn't feel any cleaner, but it was something.

\--

Arakita slid off his bike, legs aching. He squinted in to the sun. The race had been easy compared to what the Inter-High would be, but it was a good warm up. Arakita parked his bike and took a long sip out of his water bottle.

"Arakita." Fukutomi had likewise parked his bike off to the side. "We won."

Arakita chose to ignore the weird look on Fukutomi's face.

"Of course we won."

Fukutomi took Arakita's palm in to his own sweaty one. His hand felt slick and warm, his thick fingers encompassing Arakita's bony ones.

Arakita examined the way Fukutomi's tanned hand encompassed Arakita's own. He ignored the goosebumps that traveled up his arm and hoped Fukutomi couldn't feel them either. It wasn't like Fukutomi to be touchy-feely or make speeches, but if that's what he wanted, Arakita wasn't going to stop him.

"This is only small step before we go to the Inter-High," Fukutomi said, as though Arakita didn't already know that. "But we could not do this without you. We are a good team. Thank you."

Arakita wondered if this was something Fukutomi was saying to everyone on the team or if Arakita was some special case. His face burned at the idea. Over Fukutomi's shoulder, he could see Toudou elbowing Shinkai in the ribs and whisper something obnoxiously, glanced back and forth between Fukutomi and Arakita. Shinkai gave him a thumbs up.

Arakita scowled and looked away. He jerked his hand out of Fukutomi's grip and didn't look his captain in the eye.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Whatever. Let's take a break already."

"Of course."

If Arakita purposely rode through a puddle and splashed Toudou's shoes with dirty water on the way back to the buses, Toudou's squeals made him feel pretty vindicated.

\--

Shinkai looked at Arakita from over his menu. "Yasutomo, aren't you going to order anything?"

"Nope." Arakita played with the paper wrapper of his straw. Fukutomi and Shinkai shared twin frowns.

"You should eat," Shinkai prodded. "Especially after a race. You're too skinny, Yasutomo."

Arakita snorted. "It's too hot." It wasn't a lie. "I don't understand how you can eat right after working out."

Shinkai shrugged as Toudou slammed his menu down. Toudou pointed at Arakita from across the table, scowl painted across his face.

"That reminds me! You lied to me!"

Arakita scowled back. "Huh?"

"You lied!" Toudou cried again. Heads from other tables turned. "You said the food I made was good! Liar!"

Oh. That.

 "I never said it was good."

Toudou's arms flapped in inexpressible anger. Arakita stuck out his tongue.

Fukutomi glanced between them. "I did not know Toudou made you food."

"I trusted you!" Toudou shrieked. "I gave some to Maki-chan and he said it was awful! He _gagged._ You are a liar! A sabotage!"

"I never said it was good!"

"You never said it was bad!"

Fukutomi watched the exchange closely as Shinkai finished giving the waiter his order. Somehow Toudou managed to place his own order in between accusations of "ruining his rivalry with Maki-chan!" and "You're an ogre!" Arakita flicked pieces of paper at Toudou's head in response.

"I did not know Toudou made you food," Fukutomi repeated midway through Toudou's third rendition of 'Arakita is a lying liar trying to destroy my relationship with Maki-chan!' Arakita felt his leg move under the table. He looked away.

"Yeah, well." Arakita shrugged. "I didn't ask him to."

"It was nice of him."

Arakita shifted in his seat. Everything seemed different when it was coming from Fukutomi's mouth.

"I guess," he muttered. Toudou pointed at him again.

"You never even thanked me! Good or bad, I was trying to help you!"

Fukutomi smiled. Arakita felt his face heat up. He whipped his head to look at Toudou.

"I didn't ask for your shitty food!"

Fukutomi's leg shifted again. This time his ankle pressed against Arakita's.

Arakita stumbled through his retort to something Toudou said. He glanced down at the table and then at Fukutomi. Fukutomi looked back blankly. Neither of them moved.

"A-anyway." Arakita turned his attention elsewhere. Anything not to think about the way their legs pressed together. "I never asked you to make me anything. It's your own fault if it's garbage."

Toudou bristled as Shinkai laughed.

Arakita was very aware of the heat shooting up his legs.

\--

A light broke on Arakita's desk.

No. That wasn't true.

A light did not break on Arakita's desk. An entire light fixture loosened its grip on the ceiling and flung itself on top of Arakita's desk, shattering both glass and metal alike. Pointed shards shot through the air, whizzing past Arakita's neck and cheeks. He felt them graze his skin. Several girls screamed. One boy to Arakita's left dived out of his chair.

Arakita, for his part, was mostly grateful the light hadn't fallen on his head. There would have been no real damage, but it would have stung and a lack of injury was always hard to explain away. He was tremendously grateful not to have the same paper skin humans possessed.

Somebody was bleeding. Arakita could tell immediately. The copper scent clung to the air, faint but persistent. It was the girl to his right, if the way she held her cheek had anything to do with it. The fallen boy also held the back of his head, but that was less because of glass and more because he had fallen head first.

"Is anyone hurt?" The teacher called from the front of the room, voice strained. Her face was pale despite the calm demeanor she was obviously trying to keep. Several students answered her question by flashing the blood on their hands. Others scooted away from the damaged area.

It was a good thing Arakita had eaten yesterday. He was no animal, but it was hard to keep under control around so much blood on an empty stomach.

The teacher took a brief count of the students. "None of you seem too badly injured, thankfully. Please go to the nurses office, all of you. I will call your parents immediately. Takeda, please get a broom and large wastebasket. Arakita, why aren't you moving?"

Five students from Arakita's side of the room had stood up to leave, all holding various parts of their body. They had all been hurt by the fallen light fixture, unlike Arakita.

Arakita tugged a few of his papers free from the metal fixture. "I don't have any reason to go."

The teacher raised an eyebrow. "You were almost directly below that light."

"I said I'm not hurt."

"Then go to escort the others."

Arakita opened his mouth to retort again but Fukutomi caught his eye. He was staring, too intense like always, from the front of the room. Arakita never knew what to say when he caught Fukutomi staring like that. Ducking his head, he spat out a quick "Fine" and went to the door.

No one said anything on the way to the nurse. They were all most likely too afraid of Arakita to speak. Even after so much time, his yankee days preceded him.

If Arakita had to be forced out somewhere, he figured he might as well make the most of it. The nurse took her sweet time in checking him for injuries and he didn't goad her in to speeding up. The more class he missed, the better.

The nurse couldn't find anything wrong with him. Good. Arakita knew his own body. He didn't need strangers telling him what he needed to do, even if they were teachers. The worst injury sustained from the falling light among the students was easily fixable with a bandage anyway.

By the time the nurse cleared him, Arakita was bored out of his mind. He almost ached to go back to class. At least busy work would have given him something to do other than stare  at the wall.

Arakita was the last to leave since the students who were actually hurt insisted on going first. He almost jumped when he stepped out of the nurse's office, finding himself suddenly nose-to-nose with a very familiar face.

"Fuku-chan?" Arakita said, too loud for the small space between them. "What are you doing here?"

"I am here to check on you," Fukutomi said. He did not move back.

"Me?" Arakita echoed. He stepped around Fukutomi's wider body and cleared the doorway. The door shut behind him. Fukutomi's eyes followed.

"Yes. Are you unharmed?"

"I said that earlier, didn't I?"

"Sometimes adrenalin can keep people from feeling injuries until later," Fukutomi said. "But I am glad you are alright. I thought..."

It was unusual for Fukutomi, so deliberate in his actions, to trail off. Arakita frowned.

"Thought what?"

Fukutomi shook his head. Even though Arakita had moved, he still stood very close.

"Nothing." Fukutomi placed his hand on Arakita's arm. "I am glad you're not hurt. The school should take better care to inspect their equipment."

Fukutomi's hand felt hot on Arakita's arm. Arakita did not move away. "You worry too much, Fuku-chan."

"Maybe." Fukutomi agreed.

Arakita didn't look at Fukutomi when they walked back to class. He felt too good inside. Studious Fukutomi had left class early just to make sure Arakita was okay. Even if it was just something a teammate would do, if he looked at Fukutomi then, Arakita was sure he would explode.

Fukutomi kept his hand on Arakita's arm the whole way back.

\--

_Before_

\--

"Arakita, would you mind stopping by my room later?"

Fukutomi didn't elaborate any more than that. But Arakita didn't bother to ask. If Fukutomi wanted him to give him more detail, he would have done it at the start. Arakita shrugged and didn't look up from the math sheet he was pretending to do.

"Sure."

"Thank you."

Fukutomi walked off. What a weirdo.

\--

_Before_

\--

It was late by the time Arakita knocked on Fukutomi's door. Late enough that the sun had longs since set and there were few people wandering the halls. Honestly, he had nearly forgotten Fukutomi's request and it had taken a while before he remembered where his room was. It wasn't like they visited each other's rooms commonly.

Fukutomi opened the door promptly and without complaint for the late hour. Like always, Fukutomi refused to look anywhere but Arakita's eye. Like always, it sent a jolt up Arakita's spine.

"What'd you want me for?" He asked.

Instead of answering, Fukutomi stepped closer.

\--

_Before_

\--

They were kissing. They were kissing, in public, out in the hallway where anyone could walk by and see, but Arakita didn't give a _shit_ because Fukutomi was kissing him and even though there was more teeth than there probably should have been, it was like a dream come true. The wall Arakita was pressed against was the only thing solid enough to convince him this was reality.

Fukutomi shifted against Arakita. And then away.

"Arakita," Fukutomi said. "Are you a ghoul?"

\--

_After_

\--

Arakita ran.

It was a stupid, stupid, rookie mistake. As good as admitting the truth and Arakita was done for. Running was as good as a confession and he'd just signed his own death warrant. Stupid.

Any other time Arakita would have looked at his accuser like they were crazy. Any other time he would have smiled, bared his teeth, and asked "What do you think?", intimidating the person until they backed off. Any other time he would have distracted the person and avoided them until all suspicion was gone.

But because it was Fukutomi, it was too much. Because it was Fukutomi, who raised him out of the dirt, who forced him to eat, who left class to make sure he was okay, who said they were a good team, who kissed him in the hallway where anyone could see, it was too much. He panicked and ran and now nothing mattered because Arakita was a known ghoul and known ghouls were dead ghouls who didn't make it very far anyway.

His heart was racing a mile a minute as he sprinted down the dorm steps. Fukutomi's dorm wasn't far from the gates. Even if Fukutomi called the police right away, he could still make it off campus before he had any real heat on his tale. He could call his family to warn them once he put enough distance between him and the school, and he'd be long gone before any of the authorities started to gain on him. He'd heard of ghouls escaping from slightly worse situations. Not by much. But still.

Arakita thought he was imagining the footsteps echoing his own on the grass until something solid and muscled slammed in to him from behind. He twisted as he fell, ready to summon his kagune and kill his attacker where they stood before a flash of bleached hair took him by surprise.

They rolled in the grass, the momentum twisting their clothes and staining cloth and skin alike. Even with the confusion of falling, Fukutomi still had enough control to land on top of Arakita when the stopped, straddling him and pinning Arakita's shoulders down with his own hands.

He hadn't expected Fukutomi to actually come after him. No reasonable human would. He thought it had been a guard Fukutomi had called for instead. They weren't that far from the school gates, after all.

Then again, it was rather late. No doubt all the guards on campus had skipped out and gone home already.

What shitty guards. Never doing their job.

He could have thrown Fukutomi off maybe, if he really tried. But Arakita would only push too hard, throw Fukutomi too far away and hurt him. Enough to go to the hospital, maybe, and for all Arakita was and though and did, he didn't want that.

Fukutomi sucked in a sharp breath and Arakita realized in all the excitement his ghoul eyes had replaced his human ones. He wondered what they looked like to Fukutomi in the moonlight, the scarlet iris thrown over a black-stained abyss.

 _Take it in,_ Arakita thought. The ugliness, the horror, the mark of monsters and sin. _Now you know what I am._

For a moment Arakita allowed himself to lay under him, chest heaving, taking in the last glimpses of Fukutomi he'd most likely ever have. He waited for the disgust, the revolt, the accusations. Waited for Fukutomi to call him the beast he was.

Maybe he could have avoided this, but Arakita always was  a masochist.

The only thing Fukutomi said was, "So you are a ghoul."

Arakita squirmed under his grip. Fukutomi was a mountain of a man when he was on top of you and Arakita was in no position to move such a boulder. Not without really hurting Fukutomi, at least. It didn't mean he wasn't going to at least try to move him with minimal damages, even if he only got Fukutomi's stony look in response.

"Get the hell off of me!" He barked. His fingers bit in to Fukutomi's wrists. Not enough to make him bleed, but it was enough to make him flinch. It didn't make Arakita feel any better and Fukutomi still didn't let go. "I said get off! Fuck!"

Ghouls were much stronger than the average human, even an athlete like Fukutomi's self. He had to know Arakita was holding back. Even so, he didn't mention it. Instead he said:

"Do you enjoy killing people?"

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Arakita spat back at him. "Did you honestly just ask me that?"

"Do you?" Fukutomi repeated. He didn't blink when Arakita snarled at him, even though the sight must have been horrific. 

_"No!"_ Arakita snapped. There was a copper tang in his mouth. "Of course not! You think I like sneaking around and committing murder in the night?"

Arakita felt raw under Fukutomi's gaze. He was all strung out and exposed. He couldn't hid himself here, not with the world unraveling around him.

"Then it's settled." Fukutomi said. He wasn't fazed by Arakita's glare.

"Don't make fun of me. Not now."

"I am serious."

"What part of being a carnivorous monster is settled to you?"

_"You are not a monster."_

Fukutomi's voice was firm. It was the closest to anger Arakita had ever heard from his mouth. It made him tense. Fukutomi's hands tightened on Arakita's shoulders, fingers digging in to the bunched up fabric of his shirt.

"You are not a monster." Fukutomi repeated. "You are a person who is forced to do bad things to survive. If you didn't, you'd be dead."

Arakita licked his lips. "And that makes it okay."

"No."

His voice was firm. Arakita didn't disagree, but he flinched anyway.

Fukutomi continued, "That doesn't make it okay. You've killed people and that is terrible. And if you were anyone else, I would probably not accept that. But because it's you, I know you only do it to survive. It's settled because it's you and even though killing is wrong, I can't fault you for living."

Fukutomi paused to let his words sink in, then finished, "I want you to live."

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Arakita took a shaky breath. All of him trembled.

"That's fucked up, Fuku-chan."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

That was that. All the energy drained from both of them. Fukutomi's grip loosened, leaving Arakita very aware of the new ache in his shoulders. Arakita's hands slipped from Fukutomi's wrists as the blond sat up, still straddling Arakita's hips. He was acutely aware of the dirt under his sweaty palms.

Fukutomi's hips shifted almost unconsciously. Arakita bit back a hiss.

Fukutomi didn't notice. "I like you, Arakita. But if you don't feel the same, I want you to know that I won't tell anybody of this. I never will."

 _I like you._ He had craved those words for years. But he had never dared to imagine Fukutomi could ever say them knowing the truth. There was no way it could last. There was no way it was real.

Arakita closed his eyes, breathed deeply. Fukutomi's solid weight kept him grounded. When he opened them again, his eyes were back to their human color.

"Okay."

His voice came out raspy, quiet. Fukutomi's brow furrowed so Arakita repeated, louder, "Okay. Okay, I accept. I like you."

It was bad and unhealthy and it could never last. He should have taken the chance to run again. No one who knew what kind of monster Arakita was could ever really like him. It was a trick. Or Fukutomi had deluded himself to think Arakita was less nightmare-ish than he really was and soon he would come to his senses. No scenario ended well. It was foolish and selfish to accept Fukutomi's words at face value.

But Arakita didn't claim to be smart and he was always the kind of guy to take what he could get, for however long it lasted. He was too selfish not to accept.

Fukutomi's hands hovered around Arakita's cheeks. Once again, Arakita could feel the sheer heat radiating off them. He let his eyes fall shut.

"I hope," Fukutomi said, slow and hesitant. "That you are not just saying that."

"I mean it." Arakita said.

"Good." 

Gently, Fukutomi leaned down and placed his lips on Arakita's. It was brief and soft, unlike the kiss they had shared in the hallway. Arakita opened his eyes when Fukutomi pulled back. His lips tingled.

 It was quite the sight— Fukutomi's worried face bordered by a network of stars, the lights framing his head like a crown. He looked good like that. He always looked good.

"Let me up." Arakita prodded. He pressed his palm against Fukutomi's arm. "Someone's gonna walk by any minute."

Fukutomi consented. "I am surprised no one has come by already."

He stood and Arakita took the palm that was offered. It felt nice, their hands together like that. They way the spaces between their fingers fit perfectly. Arakita was sad to let it go, but as he relaxed his grip, Fukutomi tightened his.

"Do you mind?" Fukutomi asked. As though it were even a question. Arakita snorted in response.

It didn't seem right going back to his own room after all that, so Arakita followed Fukutomi back to his instead. They walked in silence. It was a mockery of the strained silence they had shared before Fukutomi kissed Arakita the first time.

Fukutomi's hand squeezed Arakita's. Arakita blamed his shivering on the night air.          

The door opened silently. Arakita was thankful no one had been lingering in the halls when they entered. He ignored the weird feeling crawling up his spine when he entered.

"We really need to shower," Arakita said. He didn't drop Fukutomi's hand.

It was true enough. The sweat from practice had dried sticky on their skin and dirt clinging to their clothes from where they had both hit the ground. There was no doubt they were both disgusting.

Fukutomi hummed. He examined both his and Arakita's state.

"You may shower first, if you wish. I'll get you some clothes."

Part of him wanted to protest, but the other part needed time alone. Arakita nodded as Fukutomi turned away. He moved toward the bathroom.

He washed mechanically. Dimly, he realized he was using Fukutomi's shampoo and would smell like Fukutomi. His heart swelled a little at the idea, but mostly his thoughts were caught up in the last minutes events. The events repeated themselves in his mind. The kiss, the truth, arguing in the dirt. It felt like too much to process. His head spun.

When he opened the curtain, Arakita found clothes laid out near the sink. The sweat pants fit nicely. Arakita's body type wasn't close to Fukutomi's— he was lean muscle, not broad enough for Fukutomi's shirts to fit properly, but he wore the T-shirt that had been laid out anyway. Arakita had been exposed enough for one night.

He was a little surprised at the cartoon picture of a dog holding a heart on the front, but whatever. Fukutomi could own whatever shirts he wanted.

He walked out and Fukutomi walked in. They traded no words. Arakita simply took Fukutomi's spot on the bed. The shower started up again and there wasn't anything to do but wait.

Arakita examined the room. He had visited maybe twice before, never for long and always asking for help with studying. He had never really taken in Fukutomi's room.

It suited him, Arakita thought. The room's layout was a reversed image of Arakita's own, but there was a very Fukutomi feel to it. With the closet door open Arakita could see all the school uniforms pressed neatly to one side, each on a hanger. A few casual clothes hung off to the other side, equally neat. The trash can was almost full and pushed off to a corner, like Fukutomi had forgotten it was there. Maybe he had. He was a busy guy. A few books were stacked a little off-kilter on Fukutomi's desk, but other than that, there was no real mess to be had. It suited him.

When Fukutomi finished with his shower, it took Arakita several minutes to realize he was done. He was so caught up in looking at Fukutomi's things he didn't see said man standing in the bathroom doorway, watching. Fukutomi had dressed in his own T-shirt and pants without drying off. Water dripped on to the floor.

"What are you looking at?" Arakita muttered, but there was no real heat to it.

"You."

Arakita didn't know why he was surprised. Fukutomi had always been the most honest guy he knew, but the answer caught him off guard anyway.

"Fuku-chan, you're making puddles."

"I will clean them in a moment," Fukutomi said, leaving the doorway and making his way toward Arakita. The bed sagged under their combined weight. Arakita opened his mouth to speak but Fukutomi wrapped his arms around him and dragged them both down.

They landed in a flurry of limbs, tangled up in each other on a bed build for one. Fukutomi landed on his back, Arakita's face pressed somewhere between Fukutomi's shoulder and throat. He smelled earthy. Wet patches of Fukutomi's shirt bled through to Arakita's as well.

Arakita was very aware Fukutomi's exposed neck against his mouth.

 _I could kill him,_ Arakita thought. _I could bite through his neck. I could strangle him. I could stab him. I could eat him or hide the body and all of this would go away._

He did none of those things.

"Fuku-chan, I..." Arakita's heart constricted. The air was too heavy. Everything was too heavy. "Fuku-chan, that night at the convenience store, I..."

"I know." Fukutomi said. Arakita felt the rumble of his voice. "I know."

Arakita shook his head. "No, you don't. I..."

He didn't know why he needed Fukutomi to know so badly. He just did. Now that there was a crack in the dam, the truth was spilling out. But Fukutomi only shook his head.

"I know you killed someone that night, Arakita."

Arakita breathed in sharply. The air had gone from thick to dangerously barbed.

"How?"

"There was blood on your ear."

Damn. Arakita hadn't been careful enough.

"That doesn't prove anything."

"I already suspected you were a ghoul," Fukutomi said, shifting a little. The whole bed creaked under him. "From other incidents. It was not hard to put the clues together."

Arakita closed his eyes. He couldn't take Fukutomi's intense stare. "I didn't think I was that obvious."

Fukutomi shook his head again. "You're not. I pay a lot of attention to you."

Words like that would have made Arakita's heart explode once upon a time. Even now his heart skipped several beats. But Fukutomi's admission to knowledge of Arakita's crimes put a damper on the feeling.

They laid there, pressed together on Fukutomi's tiny bed, for a long time. The pillow under Arakita's head grew damp with collected condensation from their wet heads.

Arakita mouthed the words many times before he found his voice.

"I don't...I'm not good,  Fuku-chan. It doesn't matter how I feel about eating, if I only do it to live or not. It's not my place to decide that kind of thing."

It wasn't just for Fukutomi's benefit. Those were the words Arakita had been struggling to say out loud for his entire life. Before, he had been able to bottle it up, to shove those feelings in to the back of his mind. The people he ate were strangers or drunks or people who had committed suicide. People Arakita didn't know and who wouldn't be missed. It was easier to push it all aside that way. But now Fukutomi was here, destroying the world he was used to and leaving gaping wounds in Arakita's defense.

Fukutomi had asked for the truth and he'd found it. Arakita Yasutomo was a filthy monster.

"And yet you continue to live," Fukutomi said neutrally.

Arakita shrugged. It was weak. "I'm selfish. I have things I want to do."

"As do I."

"You're different!" Arakita snarled. He pulled away from Fukutomi's chest. Fukutomi caught his eye. "You've never killed anyone! The worst thing you've ever done was throw a guy in to a guardrail and he came out of it with stitches. The people I meet aren't ever so lucky."

It was a low blow to bring up the first year Inter-High incident. Arakita didn't feel very gracious tonight. To his benefit, Fukutomi only lowered his gaze for a moment before he caught Arakita's look again.

Fukutomi rolled. Arakita went with him.

Arakita's foot wrapped around a bed sheet as they both fell to the floor. There was the brief, gravity induced drop, and then Arakita's skull smacked in to the floor. Even with his tough skin and regeneration, it stung. Fukutomi landed on top of him in a pile of limbs.

The juncture between Fukutomi's shoulder and neck pressed sharply against his mouth and once again Arakita was struck with the thought of how easy it would be to simply get it over with. He pushed Fukutomi away instead.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arakita sputtered, palms pressed flat against Fukutomi's chest. Fukutomi sat up enough to straddle Arakita, then stopped. "Get off!"

It felt like they were outside in the grass all over again.

"You are not a monster," Fukutomi said instead of moving. "You are you. You wish to live and nobody can begrudge you for that."  
  
"Except for when my will to live means killing others."

Fukutomi ran a tongue over his lips. Arakita's eyes involuntarily followed. "In nature, it is survival of the fittest. Only the strong survive."

"That's too much, even for you, Fuku-chan." Arakita said bitterly. He didn't need coddling or excuses. "That shit only applies to animals. I'm not a dog."

"No," Fukutomi agreed. "You are not. You had the chance to kill me just now when we rolled off the bed. I could have been attacking you. Yet you did nothing."

Arakita snorted. "Like you would have done that."

"Still. You had the chance to kill me. It would be easy for you. Didn't the idea cross your mind just now?"

Arakita tried not to make a habit out of lying. He stayed quiet.

Fukutomi took his silence to mean exactly what it did. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Arakita's.

"You are strong," he said deliberately.

Arakita twisted away, placing his cheek on the cool wood floor. Something wet pooled in the corner of his eyes, but he refused to acknowledge it. Arakita's sisters never would have splintered the way Arakita did. They had always been more in tune with themselves, more sure of their place in the world. Now more than ever was Arakita aware of that fact. He cursed them and humans and ghouls and every unlucky soul to fall victim to any of the above.

Without speaking, Fukutomi stood up and helped Arakita back to his feet. They fixed the bed sheets and when they sat down again, Fukutomi ran a hand through Arakita's damp, messy hair.

"What are you, my mom?" Arakita grumbled. It came out a little too thick. Fukutomi's lips quirked.

Almost like a joke, Fukutomi pressed his lips against Arakita's forehead, caught somewhere between a mother checking his temperature and a lover giving a kiss. Arakita pulled away.

"Knock it off," he grumbled, but it didn't have nearly enough energy to be mean.

Fukutomi leaned closer until Arakita could feel his breath against Arakita's cheek, his mouth hovering only an inch from his skin. If Arakita turned to face him, he knew they would kiss.

If this was what Fukutomi wanted, Arakita was too selfish to say no. He was always too selfish, too violent, wanted too much, and if Fukutomi wanted this— wanted him— for a night, for a day, for however long, Arakita didn't have the self control to push him away. Even if it would ruin him. He never did. 

So be it.

Arakita turned.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is someobscurereference.tumblr.com


End file.
